I sit in the bay window with a cold cup of coffee in my hands, looking out on to the unending darkness of the world. I didn't even realise it was midnight until the sparks of gold and red and silver burned the sky to welcome the opening minutes of the new year. I sighed softly and put my coffee to one side, wondering if I would be able to get that lipstick mark off in the morning. Nostalgia pulled me back rudely to the year before, at this time I was lying half-naked on my living room floor attempting to claw my way into a wine bottle while my best friend obligingly screwed me. I haven't touched a drop since that night and I haven't seen that friend since that night.

Twelve months is a long time to sit and wonder about the state of the world, it's a long time to think over the events of your life and wonder if there was anything you would change if you had the chance. The ethical and moral dilemmas of re-creating history in your own ideal vision.

Would you?

Could you?

Should you?

I heard him open the living room door but I didn't turn around, I was still watching the fireworks from across the river and straining to hear the cries of 'Happy New Year' from the revellers. He sat down beside me and placed his arm around my waist and I sighed with the perfection of it all. I turned to face him, his smile becoming him. My own smile had been baby-wiped from my face years before and no amount of paint could put it back.
I love you, I hate you, I want you. Words, words, words. An unending stream of words. I wished that it would be over, that tomorrow could be here and that this grand entrance of 2004 would be over. I reached out to touch his face but it faded away like mist on the ground. I wondered if I should call out to him, I wondered if he would hear me. I leaned forward and pressed my painted lips to his ethereal lips and waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Finally he spoke. "______________" he whispered and I fell into him for the last time.